This story is not about cheating wives or cuckolded husbands. If that's your thing, you may prefer to read something else more titillating. Instead, my story concerns the relationship between two people who love each other, but who are struggling to deal with the cards life has dealt them.
* * *
Raucous laughter momentarily rose above the bland pop music spewing forth from a radio, interrupting Larry's train of thought. With a scowl, he diverted his attention from the columns of figures on his computer screen and looked through the glass screen that divided his office from the factory floor to see what was causing the hilarity. Marcia and Doreen were huddled together, giggling at some private joke, while young Jimmy leant on his broom, grinning inanely at them. They certainly weren't working.
They must have sensed Larry glowering at them for all three looked up rather guiltily. As soon as they clocked Larry's furious expression, the two women jumped back on to their stools and immediately bent over their sewing machines, resuming their façade of diligent employee. Jimmy was less quick to react and for a few seconds he looked puzzled before he too noticed Larry. The lad shuffled on the spot, flustered for a moment, and then he disappeared in the direction of the warehouse, dragging the broom behind him ineffectually.
Larry was just debating whether he needed to haul Marcia back into his office for another lecture about her responsibilities as factory floor supervisor, when his desk phone rang shrilly.
"Larry Evans," he barked in his usual manner.
"I'm not," whispered a soft voice.
Larry slumped back into his worn leather chair and listened to her breathing down the telephone line whilst wondering what he could possibly say. It felt like he had run out of words years ago and all that remained was a chasm of silent disappointment slowly driving a wedge between them as each day passed.
"Tina I—"
"Yeah I know, you're busy and you'll talk about it later." Her bitterness permeated the statement with poisonous bile and Larry winced.
"That wasn't what I was going to say," he replied, but the dialling tone buzzing in his ear left him in no doubt that Tina was sinking fast into her customary monthly depression.
He replaced the receiver and sat staring at the glass wall again. The women were working in silence now, the scraps of lace and silk destined for lingerie shops and Christmas stockings all over the world, whizzing through their machines at a dizzy rate.
Larry silently wondered how many men would be buying some of these delicate camisoles and thongs for their wives because they felt guilty about some misdemeanour. His wife certainly had cupboards full of the damn stuff. In fact, she had more sexy lingerie than any woman could possibly wear.
In the beginning, he recalled, Tina had loved being the first woman to try all his new collections—they had both enjoyed her excitement when he came home every few weeks with new designs, the wispy fabric all wrapped up in soft tissue paper.
Not now though.
The one thing Tina wanted more than anything in the world, he simply couldn't give it to her. Despite all the endless tests and invasive procedures, there wasn't a single medical explanation for the fact that after seven years, she had failed to conceive a longed for child.
* * *
The factory was silent by the time Larry shut his computer down. It was late. Well past eight o'clock. By rights, Larry should have left two hours ago, but the thought of dealing with Tina's black depression was hardly an incentive for him to rush home. So instead, he had ploughed through the latest orders for Christmas and updated the accounts.
It was sad really. The business was doing great and financially they were well cushioned. Four years ago they had moved to a large property in the affluent suburbs of the city. Six bedrooms plus ample living space—far nicer than the cramped council house he had grown up in. But, Larry reflected morosely, money sure didn't make you happy.
The room Tina had allocated as a nursery was still empty, taunting him every time he staggered along the landing at 3:00 AM after falling asleep on the sofa nursing a bottle of whiskey. With its pale yellow walls and plush cream carpet, the room continued to remain barren and lifeless—just like his wife's womb. As each hollow day passed, his faith that they would one day be blessed with a child, slowly faded.
With Christmas just a few weeks away now, Larry could hardly bring himself to contemplate the impending celebrations. It promised to be another miserable affair in a never-ending catalogue of depressing Christmases. Hope had long since been absent from his world and he saw no reason to believe that anything might change this year.
He flicked the light off in his office and walked slowly across the factory floor, holding his laptop bag in one hand. A lone sprig of mistletoe caught his eye as he passed the dark staffroom. Suspended by a thread of silver cord above the staffroom door, the mistletoe swung in solitary splendour. It was the only piece of festive decoration in the entire building as Larry had even banned Christmas cards this year.
"Health and Safety legislation as per Fire Safety Guidance," he had told Marcia, safe in the knowledge that she lacked the intelligence to check his assertions. "It's a fire hazard having unnecessary flammable material lying around."
Marcia had stared at him in disbelief. "You are joking?" she asked in a rare show of spirit, her cheeks fiery pink in the harsh fluorescent light.
"No, Marcia, do I look like I'm joking?" Larry knew he was being utterly absurd, but he needed no more reminders that the season of goodwill was about to drop on his head like a guillotine.
"It's just that..." Marcia's halfhearted protest ground to a sudden premature halt. "Okay, I'll tell the girls," she said in a lack lustre voice, her wilting shoulders telling him that she hated being the bearer of such miserable tidings.
Larry allowed an evil smile to flutter across his face as she left his office. He knew exactly what they all thought of him, but he didn't give a damn any more. At the end of the day he employed them and if they didn't like the way he ran his factory, they could always look for jobs elsewhere. There were plenty of immigrants out there happy to work for the minimum wage.
Eying the defiant sprig of mistletoe, Larry was tempted to rip it down. But as he stared at it balefully, something stopped him. The waxy green leaves and white berries reminded him of another time and place long ago.
Tina's hair had been long then; wild, dirty blond curls that cascaded down her slim back as she gazed at him with her emerald green eyes. Although he had known her for a few months, Larry hadn't had the guts to tell her how he felt. She was way out of his league, or so he thought. A few drinks down his neck at some party or other had finally instilled a little much needed courage and high on Christmas spirit, he had cornered her in the kitchen.
He held the pathetic sprig of half dead mistletoe that he had pinched from the garland hanging in his host's hallway, and smiled hopefully.
"Was there something you wanted?" She looked at the mistletoe and then at him with one raised eyebrow.
He almost lost his nerve before she broke into a smile, a coquettish grin that made her eyes dance as hope bloomed inside his heart.
"I was hoping you might allow me the honour of a Christmas kiss." Larry heard the words tumble out of his mouth and mentally kicked himself for sounding like the simpering hero in a bloody romance novel. Christ, now she would think he was a pompous idiot!
"Why, Mr Evans, I might just allow that to happen," she replied with a trace of irony.
Even before the realisation hit that she was not averse to the idea of a kiss, Larry felt her soft lips touch his—and almost fainted. She tasted of chocolate and wine: a dreamy and thoroughly intoxicating combination. As her slim body pressed firmly against him, Larry pulled her into his arms and fell completely and instantaneously, in love.
* * *
Rain lashed the streets as Larry steered his BMW out on to the bypass. As the wipers swished hypnotically, his stomach clenched at the thought of what he was going home to. Tina had been so certain this month. Not wanting to tempt fate, he had persuaded her to wait a few days before taking a test. Just to be sure, he had said. When he had left for work that morning, she had promised to call him as soon as she had been into town and bought a test.
Although he hadn't really wanted to believe that the unthinkable might have finally happened, part of him had been dragged along on her runaway train of hope and optimism. If he felt crushed yet again, god only knew how Tina was feeling.
As he turned off the bypass towards their village, a small caravan in the lay-by caught his eye. A small hand painted wooden sign proclaimed flowers were for sale and on impulse he swerved into the parking area.
Light streamed out of the caravan windows and for a moment Larry wondered why on earth he was stopping. Despite the buckets of blooms arranged around in the area, it seemed unlikely that the vendor would still be taking money at such a late hour. More likely he or she was half way through a crate of beer.
His powerful headlights lit up a dazzling array of beautiful flowers. Knowing how much Tina loved flowers Larry pushed any lingering doubts to one side and climbed out of his climate controlled car, straight into a biting December wind. He shivered despite the wool coat he had had the foresight to grab as he took the few steps towards the ramshackle caravan door.
Before he had lifted his hand to knock, the door opened and a wizened old woman appeared. Her stringy grey hair was tucked into a cotton scarf and her woollen jumper had clearly seen better days. When she smiled at him toothlessly, Larry felt a sudden tingle shoot down his spine. For a few seconds they stared at each other while a television warbled away in the background.
Larry felt like the old woman could see right into his soul. Her black eyes bored into his with an intensity that scared the crap out of him. For a scary moment he thought he saw something else in her eyes, something he didn't quite understand, but then the feeling passed and he became aware of the rain beginning to run down the back of his neck and he shivered.
"Can I buy some flowers?" It was almost a plea.
"She likes roses."
How on earth could she know this?
